


The one in which Dean is so emotionally constipated that Cas has to fake-date Balthazar in order for Destiel to happen

by so_get_this



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor!Cas, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Artist!Dean, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gabriel is such an awesome friend, Happy Ending, Kinda, M/M, Oneshot, Tumblr Prompt, and Balthazar is awesome, and I thought it would be kinda awesome, angry declaration of love, idk this just came to me when I saw this post, jealous!Dean, which btw I think is super hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:29:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_get_this/pseuds/so_get_this
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a cute little ficlet based on this tumblr post:</p><p>Imagine your otp getting in a fight and one of them yelling that they love the other one and then it gets really quiet</p><p> </p><p>"Why can’t you just be happy that I’m happy!”</p><p>“Because I love you! Okay? I’m completely head over heels in love with you and I swear to God, Cas, it kills me every time you even look at him because I’m wishing the whole fucking time that you were looking at me!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one in which Dean is so emotionally constipated that Cas has to fake-date Balthazar in order for Destiel to happen

The first problem was that Cas had slammed the door. Well, no, technically the first problem was that Dean was in love with his very male (and, oh God, _very_ male, all hard angles and lines and a chest that could have been carved by angels) and, he had thought, very straight roommate. And then the second problem was that said roommate had been asked out on a date by none other than Balthazar, the self-obsessed dickhead who lived down the corridor with Gabriel, a cheeky idiot who Dean was forced to pretend to like because of him dating Sammy. The third problem was either that he’d had the audacity to ask Cas _in front of Dean_ or that Cas had _looked at Dean and blushed_ before he said yes. The fourth problem was definitely that Cas had said yes, thus smashing Dean’s previous conviction that Cas was straight and forcing him to realise that actually Cas was decidedly not-straight and was in fact just not interested in Dean, which was then problem number five. So maybe the door was problem number six, but Dean would argue that it was still significant.

“Don’t slam the fucking door, Cas,” he grumbles, “I’m trying to work.”

He’s drawing Cas again which is not as creepy as it sounds because they all had to choose one subject for their final art project and, well, it would make sense to choose him roommate and best friend, right? And that would have been a logical decision even if he hadn’t been harbouring this fuck-sized crush.

“Sorry,” Cas almost fucking sang, collapsing on his bed with a happy sigh.

There is a pause, an expectant silence, and Dean knows exactly what Cas is going to say, in _three, two, one…_

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my date?”

The million dollar question.

“How was your date, Cas?”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas fucking sighs and can this actually get any more sappy? And yes, apparently it can, because Cas then goes onto describe the date in explicit detail, describing how _fucking Balthazar_ got to put his hand on the small of Cas’s back, and how they held hands all through the movie, and how Balthazar smiled shyly before kissing Cas goodnight at their front door and how _his eyes sparkled in the moonlight on the walk hom_ e. Ugh.

“That’s real nice, Cas,” Dean says, trying so hard to sound sincere, because although inside his head he is free to be bitter and jealous, Cas does actually deserve to be happy and if Balthazar the dickhead makes him happy well then Dean won’t do anything but hold Cas when they inevitably break up. Hopefully.

“Yeah, it is,” Cas says, unaware that Dean is at this very moment planning ways to get away with murder.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this will work?” Cas asks, glancing nervously at Balthazar, the man who will be his fake-boyfriend for the next month. Balthazar only winks back.

“Of course it will,” Gabriel says. “Balth owes me a favour anyway, we’re all good, Cassie.”

Gabe rubs his hands together, like the evil genius mastermind he believes himself to be.

“And lets be honest, Dean isn’t going to admit it any other way. You just have to play along, can you do that?”

“I’m a drama major and I’ve been pretending to not like Dean for the last 3 years, I think I can manage to fake-date someone else for a month. But I still don’t believe that he likes me back.”

“Oh he doesn’t, Cassie, he loves you back. And that’s why this is going to work.”

 

* * *

 

 

In his defence, Dean did last a truly heroic length of time before the cracks started to show. It’s been officially 3 weeks since the first date and Balthazar is now spending at least 90% of his time with Cas. In their room. On Cas’s bed. Once, admittedly when they were pretty drunk, on Dean’s bed. He is not happy. In their defence they weren’t even kissing, just sleeping, and he’s never even seen then do more than hold hands so he has no reason to expect anything to happen. But in their offence, they were _in his bed_.

This is the moment he just explodes.

“Okay, Cas, this has to fucking stop.”

“What has to stop?” Cas asks, looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, Balthazar’s arm awkwardly around his shoulders.

“You and him being all cute and coupley all over this goddam flat, I cannot take it a moment longer.”

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Balthazar says, carefully getting up and giving Cas a brief hug to say goodbye.

“Text me?” he asks, waiting until Cas nods before smirking slyly at Dean and leaving.

Cas turns to Dean once the front door has closed.

“Okay, shoot, what the fuck is your problem?”

“Okay, fine, you like him. I get that. God I fucking get it. But can you do it, say, in _his_ room? Or somewhere where I’m not? Because I don’t get a single fucking break from you and it’s starting to piss me off, Cas.”

“Why are you being such a dick about this?”

_This is a bad idea, Winchester, just stop. Just fucking stop. Back track like crazy and get out while you still can._

“Why are you refusing to just back off? All you fucking people in relationships, just pushing it in my face, well congratulations, you got to me! Would you like a fucking gold star?” He’s shouting now, and seriously considering punching something.

_Stop, Dean, you have to stop._

“We’ve been acting exactly the same for the last 3 goddam weeks! Dean, why the fuck are you saying all this _now_?”

“I guess I just got sick and tired of you being so happy all the fucking time!”

_Shit, Dean, that did not come out right. Fuck. I didn’t mean I don’t want you happy, Cas, I just want you happy with me._

“Oh my God, Dean, you’re upset because I’m fucking happy?” Cas shouts back. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why can’t you just be happy that I’m happy!”

“Because I love you! Okay? I’m completely head over heels in love with you and I swear to God, Cas, it kills me every time you even look at him because I’m wishing the whole fucking time that you were looking at me!”

_Oh fuck._

And then it all suddenly went very, very quiet.

Cas’s eyes widen with Dean’s as they both realise what he’s just said.

“Dean, I..."

“Oh God, Cas, look, I, fuck, I have to go,” Dean says, out the door before he’d even finished speaking.

Cas slumps down on his bed, staring across into Dean’s half of their room, looking for what suddenly feels like the first time at all those sketches and paintings and photos of him, starting to realise that Dean choosing him as a subject for his final art project really did have nothing to do with convenience. Realising that every time he looked at Dean, Dean looked right on back. Realising that _oh God Dean just ran away and he thinks you don’t feel the same and what the fuck are you doing Cas go after him you moron_ and then also _fuck I need to fake-break up with Balth_.

 

* * *

 

 

After frantically and unsuccessfully searching for Dean, Cas returns to find Balthazar sitting on the couch in his own flat, pretending to read a magazine that is, in fact, upside down.

“Cassie!” he shouts, beaming. “How did it go? Do we need to break up yet?”

“Yeah. Yeah we do. Oh God, Balth, he said he loves me.”

“So why are you not with him?” Balthazar asks, frowning.

“He ran off. I can’t find him. I didn’t even get the chance to say anything back.”

“Go home and wait for him, he’ll come home eventually."

So Cas does. It’s nearly an hour later when Dean bursts into the room.

“Okay, Cas, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, I really shouldn’t have said it, and I’m sorry if you don’t want to be friends any more but I couldn’t…”

Cas decides that a good way to shut Dean up is just to place a hand over his mouth. Dean’s eyebrow shoot up in surprise.

“Cas?” he says, voice muffled.

“Balth and I were never dating, it was a ploy that Gabriel came up with in order to make you jealous. I didn’t believe it would work because I didn’t believe that you liked me back, but it does now appear that you do, so would you please just kiss me?”

Cas removes his hand, slowly, carefully, and waits.

“You aren’t dating Balthazar?”

“Never was. I don’t want to.”

“And you like me?”

“Yes.”

“And I can kiss you now?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Well then,” Dean chuckles, grin now firmly back in place, “I suppose I can manage that.”

He leans forward and carefully brushes his lips against Cas’s. There is a moment in which even this chaste symbol of affection makes them both need to catch their breath. And then Cas pulls at the lapels of Dean’s jacket just as Dean’s hand grabs Cas’s T-shirt and they crash together, tugging into each other, needing to be closer, closer, closer. They collapse onto a bed, neither of them really cares whose bed it is, it’s not like they’ll be needing two from now on anyway. Something falls on the floor, one of them bangs their head on the wall or on the backboard. Knees are bumped, noses clash. It’s altogether sloppy and has very little elegance or finesse. But somehow it’s perfect. And, really, can you blame them? They’ve been waiting a long, long time for this.


End file.
